


One Night Stand

by DaisyFairy



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Coitus Interruptus, Declarations Of Love, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jealous John, John Being an Idiot, M/M, Most of the sex is kind of off screen, One Night Stands, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:17:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7066711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/pseuds/DaisyFairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock brings home a one night stand.</p><p>{"Who's that?" The beautiful young thing asks as Sherlock pushes him against the wall and sucks and kisses his neck.</p><p>Sherlock pauses and follows the man's gaze "That's John, don't worry, he doesn't mind, he's not gay." Sherlock replies, the last few words said with bitterness.}</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night Stand

Sherlock stumbles through the door from the street dragging a younger man in behind him. He is a slim blonde 25 year old Sherlock had met in a club, both of them are tipsy on the cocktails they had shared and from the hungry kisses in the cab. Sherlock leads him up the stairs to 221B by the hand, stopping on the landing for a heated kiss before opening the door and grabbing a fistful of the man's black t-shirt to drag him into the lounge.

"Who's that?" The beautiful young thing asks as Sherlock pushes him against the wall and sucks and kisses his neck.

Sherlock pauses and follows the man's gaze "That's John, don't worry, he doesn't mind, he's not gay." Sherlock replies, the last few words said with bitterness.

John is sitting in his armchair watching a documentary, he turns and  stares with wide eyes at the spectacle before him. Sherlock has returned to ravishing the stranger with almost white blonde hair and delicate almost elfish features. They are kissing passionately, and the younger man is working to undo Sherlock's trousers.

"Sherlock! What are you doing?" John asks angrily.

"Nothing to concern you." Sherlock spits back, then linking hands with the other man says more gently "Lets go to my room."

John watches them make their way to the bedroom, it is slow progress with them clawing at each other and stopping several times to share fierce kisses. John suppresses a growl when he sees Blondie groping Sherlock's arse and hears Sherlock's appreciative moan in response. Eventually the bedroom door closes, he hears a thump against the wooden door and knows that one of them is pushed up hard against it while the other.. No he doesn't want to think about it. Instead John turns the volume up on the tv and tries to return to learning about the lives of elephants, grinding his teeth in frustration.

It is no good, the sound of the tv cannot block out what is happening, he can hear scrambling against the wood and a single thump (head thrown back in pleasure against the door, hands seeking purchase desperate to anchor themselves).

John closes his eyes and wishes he were elsewhere, but it is gone midnight, where would he go if he left the flat? His room is directly above Sherlock's so going to bed will not help, if anything the sounds would be even clearer from there.

"Yes! oh God! You're amazing." He hears slightly muffled through the door, not Sherlock's deep tones, too high for that, it must be the other man. Sherlock hasn't responded, other than a muffled moan that John just about makes out. Why wouldn't he respond? (Maybe his mouth is full) Johns brain unhelpful supplies.

John groans. He can't complain. Sherlock had declared his love two days ago when they finally got back home after a kidnapping where they were convinced they would die. John's cowardly response had been "I'm sorry Sherlock. You're my best friend, but I'm not gay, you'll have to find someone else." So that is obviously what Sherlock is doing, moving on, trying to forget all about his unrequited feelings. How can he deny him that? Even if it is just a stupid one night stand with some idiot boy, Sherlock is an adult and can do what he wants, John knows that he gave up any right to object when he turned Sherlock down. He groans again in frustration at himself, and anger at Sherlock for so easily transferring his affections, even though rationally he can't blame him.

"Don't stop!" Comes a frustrated cry, loud enough to be perfectly clear even from the lounge. A low deep voice replies, John cannot make out the words, but hears a "Yes, please God yes." in response. He hears the door settle as the men in the bedroom move away from it, and a creak of bedsprings. His hearing is attuned totally to the room beyond the wooden barrier now, all pretense of watching his programme forgotten.

There are soft sounds and muffled moans emanating from the bedroom. John stands and without realising it starts edging towards the door in his eagerness to hear more clearly. It is like a horrific car crash, he doesn't want to know, the more he hears the worse the pain in his chest becomes, but the thought of _not_ knowing what is going on is equally unbearable. He stands outside the door for several minutes, trying to make himself move away but unable to get his legs to cooperate.

"More, I need more!" Comes a desperate cry in Sherlock's deep baritone.

John closes his eyes, but the images on the back of his eyelids are too disturbing so he snaps them open again and stares at the paneled door. He is shocked at how close he is to it and has to take a step away. He stands for several minutes listening to mumbled voices and moans through the door, feeling disgustingly voyeuristic, but part of him wanting to know, punishing himself for being too afraid to admit the truth.  He startles when Sherlock cries out again.

"Now! I'm ready now, fuck me!"

John falls to his knees, he is so desperate to march in and pull that man away from his Sherlock, but he can't. Sherlock can do what he wants in his own room. Instead John stares down at the floorboards and clenches his fists tight enough to leave half moon marks in his palms from his fingernails.

The younger man has whispered something John couldn't catch, but Sherlock replies loudly, "We don't need one, I'm clean."

John's head snaps up, his jaw clenches. He takes a deep breath through his nose, not only his jealously but also his instincts as a doctor kick in, he can't allow this to continue. Allowing himself no more time to think this decision through he stands, takes a step forward and bangs on the door.

"Sherlock Holmes! You are not having unprotected sex with someone you just picked up at some seedy nightclub. You answer me right now or I'm coming in there."

John listens carefully, for a few seconds there is total silence, then he hears Sherlock's voice.

"I'm a bit... busy now John, _oh God_ , what with having three fingers up my arse, _uhmm, yes, uhh_ , we'll talk about this later." Sherlock says trying to sound calm but he cannot help the sounds that escape involuntarily in response to whatever is being done to him.

John trembles at the effort of restraining himself from going in there and punching that little prick on the nose.

"Not later, now!" He shouts with as much authority as he can muster.

"We haven't got anything." A younger voice replies nervously, obviously confused by the turn his evening was taking.

John clenches his eyes closed hard and bites his tongue. Then he hears Sherlock's voice again.

"Oh God, just there, do that again." A deep baritone howls.

John knows this is his fault, he rejected Sherlock in his pigheaded determination to hang on to his heterosexuality, this is the result. "God, fuck it all." He thinks.

Wishing fervently that he had just been braver two days ago John shouts "Listen up Blondie, if you touch him without a condom on I will fucking kill you. I have some upstairs, just wait."

He moves away from the door and stomps up the stairs, grabbing a silver packet from his drawer, then changing his mind and just picking up the whole box. Upon reaching the bedroom door again he realises the problem of getting the prophylactics into the room without seeing what is happening in the bedroom. Closing his eyes he opens the door a crack and thrusts the box through the opening, the box is snatched from his hand and he pulls his arm back as if he has been burnt, closing the door with a bang.

Sherlock's voice calls out again "Ah, yes. Oh God, hurry up, I'm ready."

"Oh God, they are going to do it." John thinks, separated from the two men by only a few feet and a couple of inches of wood. "Now, say it now." He silently urges himself, but cannot bring the words inside of him to the surface.

"You're so tight. Oh God Sherlock, it's so good." John hears Blondie cry out.

Suddenly the words are there, on the tip of his tongue. "I love you." He shouts through the door. "Sherlock! I'm in love with you. I'm sorry I rejected you, please, I love you too."

Silence from the bedroom, then a heavy thump and a indignant shout of "What the fuck?" The bedroom door is flung open by Sherlock who is totally naked, very erect, covered in sweat and his hair in disarray. Behind Sherlock John can see the younger man picking himself up off of the floor where he must have landed when he was summarily pushed off of the bed.

"Did you mean it?" Sherlock asks, panting heavily.

"Yes, I love you, I'm a complete idiot." John replies with a small smile.

Blondie pushes past Sherlock out of the bedroom doing up his jeans as he walks and carrying his shirt, John and Sherlock watch him briefly, then return to staring into each others eyes. He stomps angrily towards the door to the flat calling over his shoulder "Fucking bastards, you pair are insane." The flatmates glance at him as he pulls the door open and slams it behind him hard enough to make the windows rattle in their frames.

Sherlock tentatively reaches out to John and lays a hand on his right shoulder, he bites his lower lip. "Why? Why did you reject me?" He whispers.

"I was scared. I'm sorry. Were you trying to make me jealous?" John asks staring into Sherlock's eyes and clasping his left hand over Sherlock's where it rests on his shoulder.

"No. Yes. No. I don't know. I just was lonely and wanted to feel something. I'm sorry I let him do that to me." Sherlock says miserably.

"Hush." John says and stands on his tip toes to kiss Sherlock's forehead. "It's my fault, I told you to find someone else. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"What do we do now?" Sherlock asks nervously.

John looks past him to the bed, like a crime scene it tells the tale of what has taken place there. The duvet is heaped on the floor, the sheets are rumpled and a pillow is placed in the centre of the bed. There is an open bottle of lube leaking onto the sheets and silver condom packets are scattered over the bed and floor. The whole room smells of lube, sweat, the other man's cheap aftershave and sex. John reaches out and takes Sherlock's hand.

"You need a shower, then we will go up to my bed."

Sherlock swallows and asks "What will we do in your bed?"

John chuckles "I think we both need to sleep tonight to let this sink in. Anything else can wait until the morning love."

"Can I kiss you?"

"When you have brushed your teeth and showered, you smell of him."

Sherlock looks down, suddenly self conscious of his nudity. He pulls away from John and dashes into the bedroom, emerging seconds later with a clean pair of pyjamas and his dressing gown. He brushes the back of his knuckles over John's cheek in a gentle caress then rushes into the bathroom to clean all traces of his assignation away.

John pulls the bedroom door closed, the mess is a problem for tomorrow. He moves through the flat, locking the front door, putting used mugs and plates into the kitchen and switching off the tv and lamps. He hears the shower shut off as he ascends the stairs, anticipation thrumming in his veins. He changes for bed and settles in.

When Sherlock opens the door and stands awkwardly by the bed John flips the duvet up and smiles widely, holding his arms out in invitation. Sherlock slips into the bed and John embraces him, damp curls tickle John's throat as Sherlock nuzzles close. They share a gentle kiss, lips brushing, the pressure increasing and then deepening as their heads tilt to find the perfect angle. Lips part and tongues gently explore. This is a kiss that promises more, there is no need to rush. Sherlock settles his head on John's shoulder and lazily kisses his chest through the cotton sleep shirt that John is wearing.  John wraps his arm around Sherlock's back pulling him close and gently kisses the crown of his head.

"I must be the biggest imbecile in the world to ever turn you down. I love you Sherlock." John murmurs.

"Love you too." Sherlock says in a sleepy slur, pulling the arm that is slung over John's ribs tight in an impossible attempt to get closer.

John kisses Sherlock's curls one more time, there is no response and he realises that the detective is asleep.

"You never need to find someone else again." John whispers in a secret vow, blinking back a tear at the thought of what he had come so close to losing.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this.
> 
> Comments and kudos make me happy :-)


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